Liz's Trip to Hell
by animedragongirl
Summary: A parody of Dante's Inferno, or, more accurately, a paper I had to write for my history teacher. The prompt was to go through Dante's Hell as he did with Virgil. Various manga characters apply.
1. Canto I

Come on, come all, to witness the annoyance and unhappiness of Liz Bushman!

Aka, a history paper.

* * *

Canto I

I have always hated Mondays, and the worst one I have ever encountered would have to be the one that occurred merely a few weeks ago. Despite the fact that it was in my sophomore year—my pre-calculus class did not meet on Mondays, thus giving me a two-hour lunch—even the two-hour lunch could not make up for the fact that I somehow found myself in Hell.

It is all Mr. Orgill's fault. I maintain that it is his entire fault, and I always will maintain that it was his entire fault. Curse you, Mr. Orgill!

But, I digress. More on that subject comes up later in my tale of woe and distress and utter unhappiness.

As I said, I ended up in Hell at 7:45 AM on a Monday morning, at the time of the day when I hate Mondays the most. Therefore I was in an evil mood when I stepped through the doorway of the lecture hall and found myself staring at a person I would never have thought I'd meet in my life, let alone on a Monday morning.

So though I was then officially not yet quite in Hell yet close enough for the area to be interesting, I found myself staring at the person in front of me far more than I was the scenery.

"Hello Miss Bushman," he said disinterestedly, staring intently at me and biting his thumb.

"Uh… hi," I replied brilliantly. An awkward silence stretched out for a few moments as I gaped at one of the coolest manga characters ever created.

"I would take it that Miss Bushman is surprised to see me?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Well," I replied dryly, never at loss for a snippet of humor, "I suppose it would be a great surprise to suddenly see a long-dead manga detective on a Monday." Remembrances of excellently-drawn manga panels scrolled through my head, most of them having to do with said detective's death.

"Yes, I would think so." He was chewing his thumb again, shifting from foot to foot (both of which were bare) as he usually did when portrayed in the series I'd known him from.

"Well," I said, gathering my wits (and the polite niceties my mother had drilled into my head since the day I was born), "it's nice to meet you Mr. Lawleit." I politely offered my hand, which he grasped between his thumb and index finger before shaking it briefly.

"Please call me L," he replied, still staring.

Having finally come to terms with the fact I was talking to a manga detective—a dead manga detective—I looked around, realizing that I was in somewhere definitely not the lecture hall at Fresno State.

In actuality, I was standing some distance away from an immense black gate, the kind that is square in structure even if the gate itself is arch-shaped. It looked rather like one I had seen in India, but there were no carvings or ornamentation to speak of.

The road—if you could call what we were standing on that—led straight up to it; to either side there was nothing but flat brown ground, an immense plateau of nothing. Trees were none-existent, plants even less so; and there was absolutely no chance of wildlife in the vicinity. Behind me, the road stretched on to a dark forest, a great distance away.

Lastly, the air through the gate was hazy, like a tinted window. That is, a tinted window that was very dusty and had not been washed in quite some time.

"Where am I?" I asked, curious despite my shock.

"That is the Gate of Hell," L said, slouching indifferently, turning to view the object in question.

"I see," I said, and I did see the gate, but unfortunately, not the point. "So… why am I here?"

"I have no idea," L replied, turning back to face me, "although I hypothesize that you are going to have to undertake some journey similar to Dante Alighieri."

"I see," I said again, only this time I saw both the gate and the point. "Do you know who set me upon this journey?"

"No," said L blankly. He frowned. "Though I'd like to see who authorized such a trip."

I dispensed his comment away for future thought, mused through what I knew of Dante'sInferno, and asked yet another question. "Does this mean you're my guide, like Virgil?"

L went back to biting his thumb. "Yes," he said. He eyed my backpack, which, it appeared, I was going to have to unfortunately carry along with me all the way through Hell. "Do you have anything sweet and or remotely containing sugar in there?"

"I have a diet Pepsi," I said, "but it's mine. And there's no sugar in it anyway."

L glared at me. "Miss Bushman is very cruel," he said petulantly, putting his thumb back between his teeth. He turned around and ambled in the direction of the black gate. I followed, as his actions clearly indicated that I was to follow him, even if he was annoyed with me for not giving him sugar.

As we neared the gate, the haze became more defined, until, as we stood directly before the gate, the haze seemed to be a solid wall, albeit a wall made out of some substance that looked disturbingly familiar to the smog that blanketed L.A. almost daily.

The gate loomed large and black overhead. I glanced nervously at it, seeing an inscription in the stone that I hadn't seen before. It read:

I am the way into the city of woe  
I am the way to a forsaken people  
I am the way into eternal sorrow.

Sacred justice moved my architect.  
I was raised here by divine omnipotence,  
Primordial love and ultimate intellect.

Only those elements time cannot wear  
Were made before me, and beyond time I stand.  
Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Needless to say, none of this assured me in the least, and even the pirate-y-ness of the last line was not enough to raise my spirits even a little.

"I have to do this?" I asked unhappily, rereading the inscription.

L looked back to the spot we'd been standing in before. "There's nothing for you to go back to," he said.

I myself looked back as well, and saw only a dusty track winding its way through dead flatlands to a forest. No sign of a door or a lecture hall in sight—L was right.

I sighed, and turned back to the smog wall, eyeing it distastefully. No sense in dawdling, I told myself. So I settled my backpack more easily on my shoulders, and strode forward, L bringing up the rear.

Going through that wall was one of the strangest things I have ever experienced. It hit me, and then gave, like walking through a giant balloon wall or something. When I broke through, I saw an entirely different world: sights and sounds assailed me instantaneously, and I came into the dim light of the Vestibule of Hell.

* * *

**Character Guide:**

L:

Name: Lawleit [pronunciation: Low-light

Aliases: L, Eraldo Coil, Deneuve

Occupation: Detective

Age: 27

Manga: Death Note (Shounen)

L is a genius detective from Death Note. He was investigating the Kira case, main suspect Yagami Raito, when he was killed indirectly by Kira in the seventh volume of the series.

L hates socks, and loves anything sweet. His general manner is apathy to anything beyond his interests. He had three successors at an orphanage run by Waltari, by the aliases of Near, Mello, and Matt.

He is also rather ruthless, and doesn't care by which means he captures the criminals he pursues, although he keeps innocents out of it. Most of the time.

Description: 5'10", very messy/spiky black hair, circles under eyes (insomniac), ¼ Japanese, ¼ French, ¼ Italian, ¼ unknown, barefoot or wearing shoes without socks, loose long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and is slouched over half the time.


	2. Canto II

Canto II

The first thought that managed to get sorted through my head was that there were bugs _everywhere_. Maggots coated the ground in a writhing white carpet as far as the eye could see, and I was horrified until I realized that I was wearing my nice boots that I'd gotten last winter, not my normal Reef flip-flops that had so safely guarded my feet all through Greece. It comforted me in some odd way.

I looked at L's feet next, and saw that for some perplexing reason he was floating an inch or so above the ground. This kept him well clear of the maggots on the ground.

After the brief interlude of worrying about my feet, I looked around and took inventory of my position. The gate rose up right behind us, but the view through it this time matched the view in front of me. The wall of haze was gone, and the gate was no longer a portal from the wasteland to the Vestibule. It was just an empty black gate.

The vista in front of me was anything but pretty, if the carpet-of-maggots hadn't told you anything. The air was dirty, like the Fresno air on a red-flag day. The overall scent of this place was like a market in India, near the area where all the food vendors congregate and throw their scraps and leavings into heaps that sit out and rot. In the distance I could see groups of people, all zigzagging in circles and loops, chasing elusive white flashes. I realized that they must have been the opportunists Dante spoke of.

"Those are the opportunists," L spoke up sulkily, choosing to stare at those he was referring to instead of addressing me. "They are forever chasing white banners, pursued by hordes of—"

"—wasps and hornets," I finished for him, ignoring him ignoring me. "To symbolize their guilty consciences."

"Yes," L said, eyeing me again. "And the maggots they run through are a symbol for their moral filth."

I made a face. Running through maggots was worse than walking through them, which was horrible enough. Not to mention, everyone in Hell was naked (though not my guide, thank you), and wearing my boots while walking through the vermin was intolerable already.

We walked on, and even from this distance I could see the swift-moving river Acheron. A great crowd of (still-naked) souls were crushed together near the edge. As we reached this crowd, L shoved indiscriminately through them, provoking most to either cry out in woe or scream obscenities in various languages at us.

At the front of the crowd we stopped and looked out over the bloody waters of the river. A boat was being poled across it by a rake-thin man with clouds of white, frizzy hair flying all over the place. As he neared the crowd we were in, he began to shout, "Get rid of your hope, you fools! You shall not be shown mercy beyond this point, as I will ferry you further into Hell."

Upon seeing me, a look of fury passed across his face. "You!" he roared, lifting his pole out of the water and brandishing it at me. "Turn back now. I am not here to ferry the living!"

"Quiet Charon," L said calmly, as if a crazy man was not brandishing a dripping pole in his direction. "It's someone's will that she see the horrors of Hell, like the last human you ferried across here hundreds of years ago."

At this, Charon grew, if possible, angrier. "I am here for the dead and only the dead!" he screamed, though he lowered the pole and began pushing the boat closer to the shore. "I am not here for the pleasure of the living—I hate you all! Always coming back for more!" His wrath at my studious indifference to his shrieking terrified the crowd of souls to no end, and all swayed back as if to protect themselves as the boat was expertly poled to the bank of the river in readiness for boarding.

L stepped over the side and gave me a hand to lean on as I followed suit. "You could pretend that she's dead," he offered the river man as the other souls began to clamber awkwardly into the boat. Charon hissed in rage, but as the boat filled to its fullest, he turned it back towards the opposite side. I, meanwhile, dropped my backpack with a thud on the bottom of the boat, and sat down gratefully. I had just walked to the lecture hall and then across a precinct of hell, thank you very much.


	3. Canto III

Canto III

As we crossed, L explained to me why Charon was so angry, saying that the river guide led only the souls filled with Divine Justice to the other side, excluding Dante himself. Dante's voyage had been a surprise for Charon, but he had perversely taken hope in the fact that he wouldn't have to pole someone else like that across his river again. That was the reason why he was all the more furious when I showed up. However, something about Charon's remark smacked of something else, but since I couldn't figure it out at the moment, I filed it away for future thought.

We reached the other side within minutes, and L departed the boat as gracefully as he had entered, though I had more trouble, seeing as I was feeling a little nauseous from the voyage's rough passage.

After some brief recovery time, I took a look around to see where we were now. Dante had described Hell as funnel-like cave that dropped to the center of the earth. From my vantage point, I could see terraces like the ones I stood on outside of Machu Picchu, some lit up by fire and others not. I could see more of Acheron below, threading its way to a ledge where it dropped off. I could see nothing more after that particular terrace.

The slope we were on was covered in grass, rather like a great field. Clusters of men, women and children all roamed freely, all dressed, unlike the rest of the souls I'd seen. Children raced around chasing each other, while the adults watched on with expressions of sadness.

"We're in the first circle, aren't we?" I asked L, who had apparently forgotten my disinclination to give him my soda.

"We are," L replied, biting his thumb yet again. "This is my eternal damnation, some might say. No hope of redemption is the only punishment here, though my only annoyance is that they have nothing sweet."

"Oh," I said, but I had another question ready and waiting. "Isn't this circle only for the virtuous pagans, though? Those born without being baptized?"

"I wasn't baptized," L pointed out, digging his toes into the grass.

"That's not what I meant," I said, realizing that he would nitpick my questions until I had them stating the correct parameters of my interest. "I meant the ones born without hope of baptism, before the birth of Christ."

"God's standards have gone down now that there are so many other religions in the world," L replied, beginning to walk towards the inner border of this circle. "Since He thinks that it's now too easy for the masses to be led astray, He has ordained that all pagans—regardless of birth date—are to be placed here."

"So because you never believed in anything—" I began.

"It means that I will stay here," my guide finished for me. "Others from my world are here, too, like Matt. Watari's in Heaven, though."

"What about Mello?"

"You'll meet him later on," L said. "He was too disreputable to get his slate cleared like Matt."

We crossed through the grassy swards, and came across Matt himself near the edge of the inner border. He was sitting on the grass, watching the line of souls heading to the second circle of hell with a lack of interest. He looked around when we neared him, and he stood up, looking much more interested.

"This is Elizabeth Bushman," L said to Matt by way of introduction. "She's going through Hell."

"Like Dante?" the redhead asked, curious.

L gave him a look, which was obviously the genius's equivalent of a "duh."

"Nice to meet you," Matt said, nodding to me.

"Nice to meet you as well," I replied. "Please call me Liz."

The redhead turned to my guide and addressed him more cheerfully. "How long are you staying in this circle?" he asked. "It's really boring without you around, especially since it was already pretty dull here before you left."

"You don't talk to all the poetic geniuses Dante talks about in the Inferno?" I asked, startled.

"No," Matt said with a sigh. "They didn't like it when L showed them that everything they knew from their time was pretty much wrong, especially scientifically and mathematically. They've retreated into their Citadel of Human Reason. Technically, we can enter that as well, but they don't do anything interesting, so we hang around out here most of the time."

"It's not my fault they were all born before the Age of Enlightenment and the Technological Revolution," L said uninterestedly, scratching his head.

"Your apathy made it worse," Matt retorted. "It destroyed all their egos."

"Before we leave here," I told L, making up my mind in that instant, "I would like to see the Citadel."

"Why?" Matt asked, looking surprised.

"If Dante saw it, then I see it too," I said firmly to both.

L and Matt traded looks. "If you want to," Matt said at last. "It'll relieve the boredom for a while, at any rate."

We turned and walked to the right for a while across the grass, until I saw a large stone castle on a small hillock. We entered this through an immense door set in the surrounding wall—no moat or drawbridge was in sight. We crossed what looked like a parade ground and entered the keep through large door that was obviously the main entrance.

Inside was a vast hall, lit from above, and filled with many men and women. Those nearest to us turned to see Matt, L, and I walk through the doors, and began to whisper excitedly. I ignored them, used to this from my extensive traveling in foreign countries, and promptly looked around. The ceiling was vaulted like a cathedral, as large as a two- or three-story building. A railing ran around the walls, separating a loft-like area from the ground, upon which more people were clustered. Doors from both the main and second floors led off to other places.

Silence had descended upon the crowds of people. A pathway was made as five men, whom I took to be the Master Souls of Pagan Antiquity Dante claimed had recognized him as one of their own. None looked favorably upon my guide or his friend, but all looked curiously upon me.

"Who are you?" the one in the lead demanded of me.

I stood up straighter, stung slightly by his seeming assumption that I was insignificant. "It is polite to give your own name first, sir," I replied as haughtily as I could manage. (I'm never good at controlling myself when provoked.)

He scowled at me, but the one next to him stopped him from saying anything with a raised hand, and addressed me instead. "He is Horace," the man said more kindly. "I myself am Virgil. These are Lucan, Homer, and Ovid."

I bowed slightly to him, and offered my name. "I am Elizabeth Bushman." I used my full name, as it was far more elegant than my friends-family-and-teachers-used Liz. Sadly, there was nothing I could do about my last name.

"And what is your purpose here, Miss Bushman?" Virgil asked.

"She is traveling through Hell," Matt said for me. "L is her guide."

Virgil momentarily looked miffed, but he accepted Matt's words as truth. "Very well," the poet said, and, turning back in the direction he'd come, disappeared into the crowd. It was clearly a dismissal. The other poets followed him, a few more reluctant than others.

"Are you satisfied?" L asked in undertone, meaning to be heard by only me (and Matt, who was blatantly eavesdropping).

"Yes," I replied, just as quiet. "We can leave now."

My curiosity satisfied, the three of us left the building and returned to the border between the first and second circles. There, L and I left Matt, and the black-haired detective and I continued on to face Minos.

* * *

**Character Guide:**

Matt:

Name: Mail Jeevas [pronunciation: Mile Jeeves

Aliases: M the second, Matt

Occupation: Detective, accomplice to Mello

Age: 19 (practically 20)

Manga: Death Note (Shounen)

Matt is Mello's cohort, basically, and the third in line of L's successors. Mello's only friend, he assisted Mello in Mello's attempts to capture Kira after L died.

Since he only appears in ten panels of the canon manga, all the readers know about him comes from the Death Note: How to Read vol. 13. He is a chain-smoker who likes to play video games, and doesn't like to go out. He's also the only person who can stand up to Mello and not get murdered for it.

He is an orphan from Waltari's orphanage.

Description: 5'6", reddish-brown hair, wears goggles a lot, dresses in normal clothing, and is usually depicted playing video games on something resembling a PSP or Nintendo DS while smoking.


	4. Canto IV

Canto IV

As soon as we crossed the border between the second and first circles, cries of anguish and woe came to my ears. Minos sat grotesquely large on his hump of rock, judging each soul as they stood before him. L and I continued onwards, though from behind us he shouted:

"You living! How many of you are we supposed to let prance through?"

Further remarks were lost in the distance L and I swiftly covered.

We came upon souls all flying madly about, driven onward by fierce winds that swept the red plateau we stood on, forcing me to cling to the arm of my guide for balance. "As they let the tempests of their emotion rule them, so they are ruled by the tempest of hell," L said poetically, oblivious to the winds that whipped around and past us.

Desperately trying to keep my balance, I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible; however, a shade looked familiar to me, and so I called out for it to stop in its mad flight as Virgil had instructed Dante to do so. The shadow stopped and, painfully it seemed, turned to me.

"I am Sohma Shigure," the soul whispered. "I am punished here because had many affairs with many women during my existence on earth."

"Oh," I said, frowning. "I remember you."

"You do?" L asked, interested.

"Yes," I said, turning away from the shade. "He's from the manga Fruits Basket. I never really liked him much as a character. And I don't like the manga either."

"Ah," L replied, and made no further comments.

We left Shigure to continue flying about, and kept our line of course for the third circle. This was a difficult task, for as I previously stated I was barely keeping my balance, but L was unaffected by the winds insofar that he was unmoved by them, and could walk with relative ease while I clung to his arm in a most debilitating way.

The winds gave way exactly as we crossed the border. Cerberus guarded the third circle, slavering and drooling over the souls buried in the disgusting slush that covered the ground. Stench radiated from the ground like from the Vestibule, but much worse. I was forced to clamp a hand across my mouth for fear of losing what was left from last night's dinner, but at least I could walk without fear of being blown over again.

The three-headed dog howled at the sight of us and charged towards us. Faster than I thought possible, L ducked down and scooped up handfuls of the putrid mess on the ground. Rising, he threw them into the mouths of the dog, which set the monster to choking. L flicked what was left of the mess on his hands to the ground, and we walked on while he explained the symbolism of the punishment to me.

"Because all they did in life was to eat and waste food," he said, "they themselves are to lie like food for Cerberus to slaver over, and are valued no more than the waste they produced."

A large form buried in the snow caught my attention; I recognized him as Akimichi Choji, the rotund chunin ninja from the manga series Naruto. I did not have to ask his reason for being here—in his every appearance of the manga, he was eating something. Therefore, I did not stop and talk to him; by now I was getting worried about the time I had spent in Hell in relation to my own world. It had been at least nine hours since I had first entered this dead place, I knew, though it appeared that one needed no nourishment here in order to pass through the circles that constituted this place.

The detective and I talked of other things once the lecture of punishments was over, as we were still some distance from the border. L was particularly interested as to how I had appeared in front of the gate.

"Well," I said when he first posed the question to me, "it was seven forty-five almost exactly on Monday, and I was coming into the lecture hall for my history class. The moment I stepped over the threshold, I ended up staring right at you—or at your neck, actually." I was referring to his height, as he stood four inches taller than I did—when he wasn't slouching. That wasn't including the two extra inches of his very messy hair.

"That sounds very strange," L replied, frowning in thought. "What time did the class start?"

"It starts at seven fifty," I replied, crunching through the slush. I wasn't quite so nauseated by now, having grown somewhat used to the stench. "But the teacher doesn't really start it until seven fifty-five or eight. So people don't usually start coming in until seven forty-seven or seven fifty. But what I'm wondering about is if other kids walked through and ended up here too?"

"I don't think so," L said. "There wasn't anyone else appearing behind you." He chewed his thumb. "This shall take some consideration," he said finally. "I can't think of any likely suspects as to who would send you through Hell, nor for what reason."

I sighed. "Well," I said, "I do have the rest of Hell to find out."

* * *

**Character Guide:**

Sohma Shigure:

Name: Sohma Shigure [pronunciation: SOE-mah SHEE-goo-reh

Notes: His last name is said first, in accordance with the Japanese naming system.

Occupation: Writer

Age: 27

Manga: Fruits Basket (Shojo)

Shigure is actually my favorite character in Fruits Basket, which admittedly isn't saying much, since I pretty much despise the whole series. He's a writer who writes "romance" novels and is portrayed with many perverted characteristics.

Since he is from the Sohma family, the major interesting thing that involves him is that if a woman/girl hugs him, he turns into a dog. This is part of the Sohma family curse, of which I shan't go into detail, as it has no bearing on his role in this paper.

Description: Tall, has black hair, very cheerful, likes to wear traditional men's yukata.

Akimichi Choji:

Name: Akimichi Choji [pronunciation: AK-ee-mee-chee CHOE-jee

Notes: His last name is listed first, in accordance with the Japanese naming system.

Occupation: Chunin ninja in Konohagakure

Age: 15

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Choji is a minor character in Naruto. His genin team consisted of himself, his best friend Nara Shikamaru, and Yamanaka Ino. He is from the Akimichi clan.

His clan's specialized fighting techniques all involve getting larger and basically squishing an opponent, so he is required to eat a lot. He is never far from a bag of potato chips or some other foodstuff.

Description: Blonde, very fat, squinty-eyed, almost always ahs a bag of potato chips at hand, is rather lazy.


	5. Canto V

Canto V

It was in this manner that we entered the fourth circle, where we were promptly set upon by the guard Plutus, who stared at me, babbling incessantly in a tongue neither L nor I could understand. L steered me away from him, commanding the thing in speech I recognized as Latin, although I could not translate what he said directly. Plutus could recognize the tongue used in His places of worship, however, and drew back, yammering in dissatisfaction.

Here we came upon the hoarders and wasters. There were two groups of souls, both grouped around large boulders. They threw themselves at the boulders, endlessly pushing the rocks towards the other. Occasionally the rocks would clash together, sending the spirits flying, but they would group around their boulders and begin again within moments.

"The hoarders kept all that they could and used none of it," L told me. "Whereas the wasters regulated nothing and used whatever they had for meaningless things. All are punished with weights symbolizing the mundane, and they continually clash together so that one excess serves to punish the other."

As with the third circle, I recognized one. "Jiraiya!" I called, and moved forward, briefly forgetting what I knew about Dante's Hell.

L kept a hold on my arm and prevented me from talking to him, however. "He will not recognize his name, Liz," the detective said when I glared at him. "His mind is worn away by the rage used in his war with the other wasters against the hoarders. But you already know his story, do you not?"

I frowned at him. "Yes, I know his story," I said irritably. "He spent most of his life drinking, writing porn novels, and looking for women."

"Then why do you wish to speak with him?" my guide asked, steering me back upon our course to the next circle.

"He was one of the cooler characters in his series." I answered stiffly. "I liked him. He was very funny."

"As you cannot speak to him," L said in a tone brooking no argument, "we will continue on to the fifth circle, the last in Upper Hell. It is in the marsh Styx."

I sighed, and gave in. He was right, after all. So far, though, the only bright side to his companionship was that he wasn't making me feel like an idiot. Yet.

Onward, we walked. By the time we entered the mists emanating from the swamp, I was getting immensely tired from cavorting around Hell with my twenty-pound backpack and no other form of transportation that one's own feet.

We approached the base of a great tower, and it flared like a light house on a rocky coast. It looked almost the same too—I have been in my fair share of them—and it differed from the others only in the fact that it was five times larger than the largest I had ever entered. From a greater distance came a similar flare, though the source was hidden from view in the fog.

Seeing this, I knew that the marsh man was going to come across his swamp to pick us up, so I did not ask L about this event. After a few moments of silence on my part, he noticed and asked me, "Do you know what the lights are to signal?"

"It's to tell Phlegyas, the marsh's boat man, that there is a soul on the opposite shore," I answered promptly.

"Correct!" my guide praised. Oh, even then his mind was working! Death had not dulled his intellect at all!

Sure enough, as the ground grew squelchy underfoot and my boots grew muddy, a skiff came hurtling towards us at a fantastic speed over the slimy water. A figure stood on it pushing away madly with a pole, propelling the small boat faster than the Acheron ever could. He screamed threats as he came; apparently someone had already warned him that L and I were coming through.

"How did he find out so fast?" I asked L, surprised. "None of the guards or ferrymen knew that Dante was coming through when Dante did this."

"Cell phones," L replied. "All the major entities have commandeered one at some point or other—it makes for faster communication." To Phlegyas, he yelled the Latin approximation of "Shut up!" which made the ferryman gape in shock.

When the boat nosed to where we were standing, Phlegyas managed to find his tongue again and began to berate L as we both stepped into the skiff.

"Why is she here?" the ferryman demanded of L, completely ignoring me.

"That is classified information," L said.

Phlegyas made an extremely rude comment, but he slowly began to pole the much-weighted skiff into the mists.

"The sullen and the wrathful are condemned here," L said as soon as Phlegyas's rebellious grumblings had died away. "Those bubbles—" here he pointed to some areas where the surface of the slime bubbled slowly, "—that is where they are buried in the muck. If you care to listen, which I doubt, you can hear them gurgling a chant."

"Why wouldn't I care to hear them?" I asked, startled.

"You come from a school of music lovers. The sullen can't sing a note in tune if they wanted to."

I shuddered. Besides a world without books, a world without voices on pitch was my worst fear. "Never mind."

Turning my attentions ahead, I saw indistinct forms running and fighting in the squelching mire. "Those are the wrathful?" I half-asked, talking mostly to myself.

"Yes," L confirmed. "If you're still wondering, this is where you'll find Mello."

"Oh!" I said. "Wow. I should have guessed he would end up here, seeing as how he spent most of his time either railing at Near or railing at Kira."

"Yes, he did do that most of the time," L said, smiling slightly. "Just as well. It fits him more to be here than it would to be in the first circle, as he would more than likely try to kill all of the others there."

"If they didn't kill him first," I muttered under my breath.

The shapes grew nearer. One took interest in the skiff coming nearer, and squelched over towards us, giving the distinct impression that it was about to pounce on L and I. However, when it had come sufficiently through the mists and could see us clearly, it called out something in Japanese.

L responded in kind, standing up as the figure came close enough that I, at last, could see somewhat who it was. Surprise, surprise—it was Mello himself, obviously happy to see my guide, his former hero, L.

Upon seeing me, he did not act as the others before had, but took it in stride, instantly deducing that something was afoot; something that would probably entertain him to no end if he knew.

"Who are you?" he asked bluntly, heading straight for the information.

"I'm Liz," I said, standing up slightly less successfully as L, making the boat rock. Phlegyas ground his teeth together, and kept poling the skiff along, growing more and more irritated by my various actions. Mello ignored the ferryman's attempts to get rid of him and simply walked alongside us as we continued forward. "Nice to meet you."

Mello shrugged. He looked virtually the same as the pictures any zealous fangirl could find on the internet, albeit the fact he was covered in muck and slime from his neck down. (I could still think of a few people who would have killed to be there at the moment.)

"I suppose," he said. "If you wouldn't mind coming through hell to meet me."

"I do mind going through hell, seeing as it's taking up valuable school time and probably frightening my parents to no end, but meeting all the interesting people here somewhat makes up for it," I replied honestly.

"We don't know why she's here," L said to the blonde. "We're still figuring that out. When I know, I'll come down here and tell you."

Mello scowled, twisting the scars on the side of his face strangely. "I hate not being able to solve cases," he said savagely. "That's the only bad thing in this circle. No cases to work on, only people to fight. The strategies keep me going."

"Strategies?" I prompted.

"To use against the other wrathful," he elaborated. His scowl changed to a smug look as he continued. "None of them have managed to get me yet."

"The whole point of being here is to be punished," L reminded the man.

Mello snickered. "No human soul has ever gained redemption," he reminded L. "And I'm not likely to, either. I might as well have fun instead."

L shrugged. Something seemed to catch his and Mello's attention; they looked away, to the front of where we were heading. I looked as well, curious as to what would catch their eyes, and saw that, beyond the thinning mists, an immense wall rose from the fog.

Mello stopped abruptly. We glided on beyond him, and he waved to us. "Vale!" he yelled, making Phlegyas jump. The last I saw of him, he was grinning wickedly. He turned, and disappeared back into the mists to go torment some other members of the wrathful.

As for L and I, we were almost forcibly thrown from Phlegyas's skiff as he deliberately ran the craft ashore violently. We got off, and stood staring at the tall wall, his last taunting comment echoing in my ears as he, too, disappeared back into the swamp.

"Welcome to Dis, mortal!"

* * *

**Character Guide:**

Jiraiya:

Name: Jiraiya [pronunciation: JEE-rai-yah

Notes: Also known as the Toad Sanin.

Occupation: Toad Sanin, porn writer, drinker, ninja of Konohagakure

Age: 53

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Jiraiya is a rather major character in Naruto, actually, as he is the Fifth Hokage's former teammate. He spends the majority of his time drinking, pursuing pretty girls, and thinking up new plots for his porn novels, when he isn't out killing former students who are trying to rule the world.

He is on of the three greatest ninja ever produced from Konohagakure, and is hailed as one of the three Great Sanins. The other two are the Slug Sanin (the fifth hokage), and the Snake Sanin (Jiraiya's former best friend). His protégé's are Pein, the fourth hokage, and the fourth's son Naruto (who is the main character of the series).

Description: Very long and spiky white hair, has a metal helmet plate thing, and is tall.

Mello:

Name: Mihael Keehl

Aliases: M, Mello

Occupation: Detective, fugitive

Age: 21

Manga: Death Note (Shounen)

Mello is the second in line of L's successors, and desperately wants to oust Near for first. He worshipped L, and, upon L's death, became hell-bent on revenge.

Mello likes chocolate and is rarely seen without a bar or two of it. He goes through great lengths to get what he wants, no matter the cost, as can be seen by the fact that he joined and later ruled the mafia on America's west coast in attempts to capture Kira. When his hideout is raided by the Japanese police task team led by a false L (who is really Raito) he blows up the place instead of risking being captured.

He came from Waltari's orphanage. Mello hates to lose, and is rather vicious. He also has a rather large base of fangirls.

Description: 5'7", long blonde hair, wears black or brown leather nearly the entire time, also wears a rosary, and is usually holding a chocolate bar or a gun. He has facial scarring on his left shoulder and the left side of his face from the explosions previously mentioned.


	6. Canto VI

Canto VI

The walls of Dis were red. Myself being somewhat artistic, I usually like red, but the shade the walls were was not a color I would ever like to see again in my life (or my death, for that matter!). Thousands upon thousands of shades guarded the gates, remnants of the rebellious angels who had risen against God.

"Go back!" they cried as we came closer. "The living shall not enter here, and the dead cannot leave once they pass through!"

"Virgil and Dante needed a prayer to get through," I murmured to L, keeping a wary eye on the shades. "We'll need the same, won't we?"

"Yes," L said, not bothering to keep his voice down. He stopped and started rummaging through his pockets. He finally pulled out a closed white envelope that was bent in several places and a little dusty. The detective smoothed it out, blew on it, and released it. The prayer hovered for a few seconds, and then zipped straight up faster than the eye could follow.

"Prayers look like envelopes?" I said, grinning.

L was looking up still. "Prayers look like whatever the sender visualizes them to be." He noticed my expression. "You find that amusing?"

"It looks like something you'd expect to find on the internet," I said with enthusiasm. "That was cool!"

"Miss Bushman is amused by the strangest things," L remarked to no one.

We only had to wait a few minutes before results came. A shooting star struck the ground in front of the gate, and from that spot a vaguely humanoid being (it was surrounded by white light, so it was hard to tell its form) strode forth. The shades gathered around the gate were thrown clear, shrieking and wailing as if they were being thrown from heaven again. The gate flew open.

"And there you go," L said.

We went through the gate into the city of Dis and entered a mass graveyard that stretched out, seemingly endless. Open tombs lay everywhere, fire flaming from the openings. Souls were screaming, a continuous high pitch that I just managed to pretend I couldn't hear.

We walked straight through this circle, though near the very end someone called out; a woman with blue hair stood up, calling to my guide and I, seemingly unaware of the flames that she stood in.

I looked to L, who looked at me, and together we both walked over to her. She spoke rapid Japanese as we approached, sounding urgent.

L translated for me. "She says that she wants us to take a message to someone else in the next circle," he said. Another rapid spate of Japanese gave us her name, Konan.

"Is the message to someone named Pein?" I asked.

"Yes," L said, answering for the woman. He looked a little uneasy. "It would be on our way; he's in the first round of the seventh circle. I'm not sure whether or not this is a good idea."

"It's not," I said. "Konan here is probably trying to incite a rebellion with him, since she thinks he's the true God."

"Then let's go," L said, and firmly steered me out. "It would be better for both our souls if we were not affiliated with her."

We came to the inner ring of this circle, which was made up entirely of jagged rock. It marked the edge of a cliff that dropped away to the seventh circle sprawled far below. The stench that rose from this circle assaulted us here; I ducked behind a rock and retched. The smell from the third circle was nothing compared to this.

"Jesu Christe, that reeks," I muttered, pulling myself up using a rock after I was finished.

"We can wait here until you get used to it," L offered.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "No," I said. "We're climbing down, right? I can focus on something other than the smell that way." And it would be wasting time, I thought.

L shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said.

After avoiding the Minotaur, we descended slowly, practically climbing down the cliff face, though in reality we were following an almost non-existent path.

"You don't seem too worried about the height," L commented a third of the way down.

"We take rock climbing at school as part of our PE curriculum," I said in response, searching for another place to put my foot. "Plus my family heads out of country—or at least out of state—every summer. I was always the one who was climbing around on the ruins."

"Where have you been?" L wanted to know.

"Lots of places. Mostly South America."

L changed the subject. "So I've been thinking about who sent you through Hell," he said.

"Really?" I asked, interested. If L couldn't figure it out, no one could—well, Raito could, but he was evil and I wasn't inclined to ask him as he wasn't here.

"And I've concluded that I don't have enough evidence as of yet," L finished. "I do believe it's someone who's been here before, though."

That stopped me. "Whoa. Really? Who else could have come here, though?" I asked, shocked. "I mean, Dante died a long time ago…" I trailed off.

"Charon, Minos, and Phlegyas have all hinted to it. Probably someone from your time," L answered, moving again. I followed. "But I'm curious. How do you have so much knowledge of Dante's Divine Comedy?"

"I had to read it for my history class," I said. "There's some kind of paper coming up about it that I have to write." We came to an area where passage was slightly easier. "Does that help you at all?"

"Yes," L said, sounding thoughtful. "From what you've told me so far, I can hypothesize that the likely suspect is your history teacher."

"Mr. Orgill?!" I was so surprised that I slipped and nearly lost my footing. I managed to get my grip back just in time.

"If that's his name, yes." L stopped, waiting for me to get reoriented.

I scowled and swore. "That means I can't kill him," I growled, moving onward again. L wisely chose not to talk to me while I plotted maliciously.

When we set foot on the ground, we were officially in circle seven. This circle was composed of three rounds, the first of which we came to almost immediately. A river of boiling blood flowed through here, named Phlegethon, and was filled with the souls of the damned. They were guarded by bands of centaurs, who roamed the shores of the river and who shot any soul that dared raise itself out of the blood higher than their allotted limit.

We were hailed by the centaurs, who L bargained with for safe passage. As with Dante, Nessus guided us across. On the way, I saw Konan's friend, Pein, immersed to the neck, and obviously furious about it. I saw no sign of repentance on his face, and was very glad we hadn't taken Konan's message to him.

Beyond the ford Nessus carried us over was the wood of the suicides. Punished eternally by being unable to speak unless struck to bleeding, the souls here were encased by evil-looking trees and shrubs. Harpies flew above the forest, occasionally landing and tearing open the plants. These actions were usually followed by cries of pain from the greenery.

A small tree near us was rent in this fashion; instantly the soul began to speak in high-pitched Japanese. It was obviously another woman, and she was sobbing endlessly.

L greeted the tree in the same language, and persuaded the soul to tell us her name. When L found out who it was, he looked surprised.

"It's Misa," he told me, and went back to conversing with the tree. The name told me everything; she was the girlfriend of L's worst enemy, the mass murderer Kira. After the death of her beloved, she had killed herself in loneliness.

In exasperation, L had now given up talking to Misa, and motioned for me to go on. "She's still as stupid as ever," he said, a faint note of scorn in his voice.

"I never did like her," I commented, eyeing the tree somewhat disdainfully. It exuded an air of romantic tragedy. "What was she saying?"

"What she usually says. She asked me to pass along a message to Raito-kun, which I shall do merely because of past interactions, and she spoke about how much she loved him." L sighed, very annoyed by it all.

The third round of the seventh circle was the Plain of Burning Sand (which was basically a huge desert). Fire rained upon the souls here, symbolizing the wrath they had felt in their lifetimes.

There were three classes of sinners punished in this round: the violent against god, the violence against nature, and the violent against art. The first were stretched out in the burning sands; the second wandered in circles; and the last were huddled miserably on the ground.

There was a rill, an overflow of Phlegethon, still bloody and boiling. It snaked its way across the sands petrifying the ground it flowed upon, the steam rising from it quenching the fire that fell from the sky. L and I continued our journey along this route, as it was indeed the safest.

Along the way, yet another soul caught my eye; blonde-haired and glaring balefully, he crouched on the sands a few yards away, snarling something obviously not complimentary in Japanese. He made as if to stand when I stopped and watched him, but an invisible power forced him back down. This prompted a fresh outburst of abuse.

L was listening interestedly. "He doesn't like you looking at him," he told me.

I waved to the man, who was now trying to get up again, and started back off. "That was Deidara," I said, to answer L's unasked question. I grinned as the irony struck me. "He wasn't actually a usurer, which is what Dante claims was punished as Deidara was, but he was literally violent against art—or violent _with_ art, actually."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. He was from Naruto, so he was a ninja, and his weapon of choice was exploding clay. He called it his 'art,' and he was a terrorist bomber, I think. He made sculptures and blew them up," I recited.

L made an admiring sound. "You know him well then?"

"Oh yes. I thought he was totally awesome because he a) was an artist, and b) blew stuff up with his sculptures."

L snickered at that. "Ah," he said finally.

* * *

**Character Guide:**

Konan:

Name: Konan [pronunciation: KOE-nan

Occupation: Only female member of Akatsuki

Age: Unknown

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Konan is the only female ninja in the infamous organization Akatsuki, run by her close acquaintance Pein. She specializes in origami-type techniques.

She believes that Pein is to become the god of a new world; she assists him often and is known as "God's Angel" amongst the villagers of Amegakure, which Pein currently rules over.

Description: Medium height, blue hair with an origami paper flower placed in it. She wears the typical black-and-red-cloud cloak of Akatsuki members.

Pein:

Name: Pein [pronunciation: Pain

Occupation: Ruler of Amegakure, front for leader of Akatsuki

Age: Unknown

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Pein is the current ruler of Amegakure, the position of which he attained by murdering the leader of the village and all the leader's family and friends. He is also the leader of Akatsuki, an organization of S-Class missing nin, though he takes orders from Tobi, who is also referred to by himself as Uchiha Mandara.

Pein's goal is to rule the world as a god, by forcing every country through a grueling war to show them that there can be no justice. He believes that he has been divinely ordained as such.

His former teacher was Jiraiya, who is currently battling Pein in order to kill him.

Description: For the sake of convenience, we shall just describe his main body; Pein is tall, has red hair, multiple piercings, Rinnengan, and wears the customary black-and-red-cloud cloak of Akatsuki members.

Misa:

Name: Amane Misa [pronunciation: AH-mah-neh MEE-sah

Aliases: Calls herself Misa-Misa

Occupation: Japanese idol/pop star

Age: 26

Manga: Death Note (Shounen)

Misa was the second Kira in the Death Note series, posing to be Kira to get the attention of the real Kira. She 'meets' Raito and immediately falls in love with him, and remains his girlfriend throughout much of the series, until Raito marries her. It is a one-sided passion, however, as Raito is merely using her virtually the entire time.

She was imprisoned by L as soon as he discovered that she was the second Kira, and is later used by the investigations team to find the third Kira.

She commits suicide in 2011, a year after Raito's death at the hands of the death god Ryuk.

Description: Misa is 4'9", blonde, and has a very shrill voice. She is always dressed according to fashion, though in the beginning of the series she is depicted wearing the Goth Lolita style pretty much the entire time.

Deidara:

Name: Deidara [pronunciation: DAY-dah-rah

Occupation: Former terrorist bomber/missing nin from Iwagakure, Akatsuki member

Age: Unknown

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Deidara was a former terrorist bomber recruited against his will to join Akatsuki. He's over-confidant in battle, believing that his techniques are superlative to everything else.

His fighting techniques are all based around explosive clay, which he molds into specific shapes and detonates them when they contact the target. These range from birds to dragons. Quite literally, he's violent towards art, as he believes that the best part about his sculptures is the explosions when they detonate.

He turns himself into a bomb while fighting Sasuke, and subsequently dies.

Description: Short, long blonde hair, has a scope in place of his right eye, and wears the typical black-and-red-cloud cloak of all Akatsuki members.


	7. Canto VII

Canto VII

We reached the cliff and inner border of the last round of the seventh circle within another hour; by now I have been up for almost sixteen hours straight, and, while I'd been awake longer than that before, I had not been awake so long and walked so far in the same day. Truth to be told, I was starting to get fuzzy, and though I was still not hungry, I opened my long-untouched Pepsi in hopes that the caffeine might give me a boost, which it did, although my mental status was reworked to the level that it had been on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving break. (Such a horrible, terrible day; I shan't go into details, though, as my story needs to move on.)

L looked over the cliff, though seeing my state he forbid me to get too close. Actually, I would have kept my footing very well, and only if something made me laugh might I lose my balance.

"We need to drop something over it," he said, now eyeing the twenty-pound monstrosity that had been toted along less than zealously by me.

I set my backpack down with a sigh of relief, and immediately opened it. I started sorting through what I could get rid of and what I couldn't. There was a lot in the pile that I couldn't.

"How about this?" L said helpfully, holding out my copy of Wheelock's Latin.

"No!" I yelped, horrified, and snatched it back. "Wheelock is _sacred!_"

L eyed me as though I'd gone mad while I stuffed the book back into the backpack. I looked through the heap of what I'd gone through: my four binders, the music folders, my portfolio, Caesar, A Christmas Carol… Triumphantly, I brandished Kafka's Metamorphosis.

"We can use this," I said, immensely satisfied with my choice. I wasn't losing anything I considered worthy, so I was happy.

L shrugged, and dropped it over the edge. I began putting everything back into my bag. Just as I drew the cord tight that closed it, a giant shape rose from the depths and landed on the cliff. It looked in the general shape of a dragon, with those same immense wings; its body, however, was as gaudily marked as a frog from the rainforests in the Amazon Basin; just as strange was its tail, curled and barbed like a scorpion's; it's arms were like a lion's, and very hairy; but the face was the strangest of all, as it was that of a rather handsome and innocent-looking man.

"That," L said, "is Geryon. Who we have to fly down to the next circle on."

"Well," I said, "at least I'm used to flying."

L negotiated passage, which basically meant he bullied the creature in Latin until Geryon gave in, and we clambered on. L sat in front, and I held onto him from behind. Geryon launched himself from the cliff, and the first few seconds were accompanied by an exhilarating drop, after which the beast circled downwards alongside the boiling rill.

The flight was rather fun, contrary to what one might think, and when we set foot upon the ground of the eighth circle I was rather sorry to get off. Once we had dismounted, however, Geryon shot up into the darkness and disappeared.

It was much darker in the eighth circle, known by Dante as the Malebolge, probably due to the fact that it was so much further downwards than the other circles. Standing at the base of the cliff and looking out upon the rest of the circle was like standing at the edge of the Acheron and looking over Hell itself; this time, however, there were dikes looping around the circle, not terraces. These were filled with souls, not water, however.

L and I set off immediately for the first trench, which was spanned by a bridge; the other ditches also had passage over them. We walked swiftly across the first five ditches, L explaining each to me as we passed. The devils tending to the souls here fell into one of two categories: they either ignored us or insulted us. Only L's cries of "_Tacete! Tacete!_" would silence them, which he snarled at them often, but still we hurried by.

At the sixth bolgia, however, L bade me to stop. "We are at the ditch of the hypocrites," he explained. "I told Misa that I'd give Raito her message, and this is where he is kept."

While the bridge was repaired, we elected to climb down one side and climb back up afterwards. I followed him down to the bottom of the pit, and there we rested, waiting for Raito to appear. At the snail-like pace of the other souls here, though, I feared that much time would pass by before we could continue on. Just as I was beginning to become restless, however, Raito appeared from the gloom, walking just as slowly as the others here were. Upon catching sight of L, his face twisted into a mask of fury.

"Teme!" he snarled, before embarking on a rant in more Japanese as he continued walking forwards at that immensely slow pace. From the first word, however, I knew it wouldn't be polite.

"Shut up, Raito-kun," L said calmly in English.

"Shut up?! _You_ shut up, you arrogant [censoreding [censored [censored [censored!" Kira roared, unwittingly switching into English like L and even managing not to butcher the obscenities. His face showed the strain as he forced himself to walk faster, as though he was trying to catch his former arch-enemy and grab hold of him.

L switched back to Japanese, speaking rapidly. Raito appeared to ignore what was being said, though when Misa's name was mentioned, he regained some composure and sneered elegantly.

"You can tell that [censored that she can [censored that," Raito growled icily. His pace had not slowed one iota, and he was starting to pant from his exertions.

"You can give up, you know," L told him idly, referring to Raito's intent on getting his hands on L. "You did manage to kill me in the end, though if I do say so—" a sneer "—I never imagined that you'd be brought down by a nineteen-year-old."

Raito snarled savagely and summoned a burst of energy, enabling him to spring forward. L moved to the side swiftly, and Raito flew past him. Raving, the former mass murderer was forced onward by the same power that had driven Deidara down in the previous circle.

"He's gotten crazier," I marveled, watching him fight the force pushing him onwards.

L scowled. "Such a waste of a great mind," he grunted dispassionately as Raito's howls cut through the air.

We left that place then, climbing up along the wall on the other side. We hurried onwards down the path, crossing more bridges; we passed over the reptile-covered thieves, the evil counselors hidden in flames, the sowers of discord who are eternally disemboweled, and the falsifiers who are punished depending on their degree of falsifying.

* * *

**Character Guide:**

Raito:

Name: Yagami Raito [pronunciation: YAH-gah-mee RAI-toe

Aliases: Was false L, is also mass murderer Kira

Occupation: Detective, assistant of L, Kira

Age: 24

Manga: Death Note (Shounen)

Raito is the protagonist (and anti-hero) of the manga Death Note. He finds a notebook of death (named the Death Note) which allows the user to kill using a name and a face. Raito decides to use it to rid the world of evil, deliver justice, so on and so forth, and determines that only he is able to do so as he is a genius.

Once L becomes involved in the case against Raito, who is named Kira by the masses and the police force, the two become enemies as both are literal geniuses and both are determined that they are in the right of justice. Raito eventually manages to direct the downfall of L, and steps in L's place to continue the investigation for Kira after L's death. For almost four years, Raito leads the Japanese investigation team in a wild goose chase after Kira, thus placing him in the sixth Bolgia.

Raito is killed in a joint move by L's successors Mello and Near by the death god who formerly possessed the death note used by Raito.

Description: 5'10", always neatly dressed, brown hair, and is depicted as somewhat of a neat freak. He is also very justice-oriented, as his father was the director of the NPA in Japan.


	8. Canto VIII

Canto VIII

Now we approached the central pit of Hell; beyond and below it even further was the ninth and final circle of Hell, Cocytus. At the edge of this steep drop, I glanced apprehensively down. It was darkest of all here, and I could see nothing beyond the first few feet.

Jutting from the center of the pit where the giants, massively huge. From the chest up they were visible, and they were as wide as the lab school area in width, as I would guess.

The only one we approached was Antaeus, who L persuaded to lower us to the bottom. The giant carefully lowered us in a palm as wide as my house down, down, down, until there was no light at all. The air became frigid, and I began to shiver even though I was wearing three layers of clothing. Still we went down; still the air became colder; now it was almost a blizzard, until we were placed gently on the floor of the pit—on a lake of solid ice.

The wind howled, laden with freezing sleet. I dreaded the state of my backpack and my homework. The outer jacket that I was wearing became so wet that it started to freeze into ice itself, as was my hair, but once L noticed what was happening he placed a hand on my shoulder and the ice slid away, though the cold did not diminish. He himself was unaffected, still leading me in a pair of jeans and a thin long-sleeved shirt.

It was nearly pitch-black here; only a few dim rays of the darkness from the Malebolge above came down to this depth. The darkness made the wind feel all the colder.

"How are we g-going to get through h-here if it's so d-d-dark we can't see anyth-th-thing?" I said, managing to keep my chattering teeth from interfering too much with my question.

L held up the hand not on my shoulder; suddenly there was light, emanating from a polished silver lantern rather like the ones used for the carolers in Christmas decorations. The light in it was dim by normal standards, but in this dark pit, it was brilliant enough to blind me briefly.

"This should help," L said, as though he had not just pulled a nice lantern out of thin air.

I, being unsurprised by nearly everything now (my sleep-deprived mental state that was working on caffeine contributing greatly to this), did not comment, but hugged myself and tried to retain some warmth.

We began walking, though for now conversation was disregarded in favor of concentration. The gale blowing about us became so bad that at times L had to literally drag me forward; he took to keeping an arm around my shoulders, as the winds were nearly unpredictable, and often swept me off my feet.

Around us were the traitors of the kin, frozen from the shoulders down. Most wept silently, and all bowed their heads against the freezing onslaught. This was the first round, Caina.

I knew immediately when we had passed from Caina to Antenora, as two souls were frozen from the neck down in virtually the same hole, and I knew them both. They were the Uchihas Itachi and Sasuke, brothers and mortal enemies. Itachi did not weep; Sasuke, however, wept tears of rage, most likely due to the fact that he was spending all of eternity with his hated brother.

I explained their situations to L, though we did not speak with the two. "Both of them were ninja," I said as we walked on. "Itachi slaughtered his clan, excluding Sasuke, and defected from his home country. Sasuke left not too long after in the same manner, in order to find someone who could give him the power to kill Itachi in revenge for his family."

"Why did the elder kill the family?" L asked, suddenly holding me firm as a strong blast of wind sent me staggering into him.

"No one knows," I answered, gritting my teeth as the wind changed and raked me backwards. "The only reason he gave was that he wanted to test his talents. He was the genius of his clan, after all."

"Ah," L said, and we inched our way forward again.

We passed through the third round, Ptolomea, without speaking to anyone, still living or not. We finally reached the fourth round, Judecca, where all were frozen completely, bodies twisted and warped beneath the great sheet of ice.

The dim light of the lantern began to brighten as we walked on, and soon Satan himself was visible. Immense wings, larger than Geryon's and completely black beat furiously, whipping the wind to an even greater pitch here. The three heads gnawed upon the three greatest traitors of all time: Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. I honestly could not tell which was which, although I perceived that the darkest one was most likely Judas himself.

Though it scraped raw on my nerves, we took shelter near the hairy hind of Satan and rested briefly. After a few moments had passed, L spoke.

"You'll have to hang on to my back," he said, "since you won't be able to keep a hold on him. I'll be climbing."

"Are you sure you can do it?" I asked, looking down at what he'd have to climb. "I do have my backpack." Of which added almost twenty pounds to my net weight.

"I'll be fine," he said calmly. "You'll just have to hold the lantern."

"If you say so," I said somewhat doubtfully. When the wind blew from the opposite direction, so that we were directly in the lee of it, I got on his back in the same position as small children getting piggyback rides. I hooked my legs around his waist, wrapped my left arm diagonally over one of his shoulders, and held the lantern in my right hand, which flickered but held steady when I grasped it. He took handfuls of the hair covering the leg and began to descend slowly but steadily.

Soon we were beyond the ice; yet still we descended, until we were finally at the bottom, where we set foot on earth. The world swiveled around, and the leg we had been descending was upside down leading into a deep hole. Ahead of us, the Mount of Purgatory rose majestically, reaching to the top of yet another cave. Light haloed it at the top, as the mountain led up to an immense hole in the ceiling; the effect was downright holy.

It was also much warmer here. I could practically feel myself thaw, and I welcomed the warmth gladly.

"All you have to do now is climb the mountain," L said cheerfully, apparently none the worse for the climb. "I'll come with you to the end, though; I wouldn't want you to get attacked by something and die before you get home."

"Okay," I said, glad that I wasn't being left alone quite yet. I'd grown a bit fond of my eccentric guide. Also, my mental capacity had narrowed to the point where my reactionary skills were nil, and it just made more sense to journey with someone instead of alone.

Compared to the rest of Hell, the ascension was easy; it took four hours of hiking to reach the top, but for once we weren't avoiding demons or fighting off harpies or trying to walk headlong into eighty-mile-an-hour winds, or worse every step of the way.

We finally reached the summit of the mountain. About ten feet higher was the world above; there was a ladder to one side leading straight up to the sun. I stopped to catch a breath or two; L standing quietly beside me. It had now been over twenty-four hours since I first walked through the doorway of the lecture hall.

After a minute of staring at the ladder and hole, and the view all around (which wasn't very good), and basically everywhere but L, whom I had become rather attached to and would more than likely never see again, I turned to my guide.

"I should go now," I said slowly. I paused, but couldn't find much more else to say.

"You can come visit whenever you like once you die," he offered.

I grinned briefly. "If I don't end up in a lower circle of Hell," I said humorously.

"True," L admitted.

I hesitated a moment longer, then leaned forward and hugged him. I let go, and started climbing the ladder. I'd have more than likely started crying if I looked back at this point of time, so I didn't.

As soon as I got through the hole, I pulled myself onto the land in front of me. The view around was lush and green; vast fields with outcroppings of rock and trees dotting the area met my gaze.

In front of me was another doorway. It was plain, brown-painted metal, with heavy, closed doors of the same color and substance. The doorknob was brassy and tarnished. I grasped it and turned it, pulling the door open. I stepped through, and found myself…

…in the lecture hall.

I froze and looked at the clock. The big hand was on the nine; the little one was just past seven. Seven forty-five AM.

Then I saw Mr. Orgill, who looked away as soon as I looked at him, but I knew it. I just knew it.

I stood there for a few moments, brain trying to figure out what had just happened.

"I hate you," I finally said with feeling to his back. He didn't answer, but it looked like he was laughing.

As I said… Mondays are the worst.

* * *

A/n- Now that you've read it all, how do you think my Mr. Orgill's going to like this? He has to read it over his vacation :D

But just so you know…. Mr. Orgill is one heck of a Latin ninja. Totally awesome is he.

**Character Guide:**

**Itachi & Sasuke:**

Names: Uchiha Itachi [pronunciation: OO-chee-ah EE-tah-chee, Uchiha Sasuke [pronunciation: OO-chee-ah SAHS-keh

Notes: They are brothers

Occupations: U.I. is a member of Akatsuki; U.S. is a protégé of the Snake Sanin

Ages: U.I. is 20, U.S. is 15

Manga: Naruto (Shounen)

Itachi and Sasuke have a very violent history, as Itachi decimated the entire Uchiha clan excluding Sasuke. Sasuke became bent on revenge, and learned how to be emo very well. Itachi went on to join Akatsuki; Sasuke, being a very impatient idiot, left Konohagakure and joined Otogakure, which was led by the Snake Sanin Orochimaru.

Since they hate each other quite a lot, I thought I might as well torture them both by putting them close enough together in the third round of Cocytus so that they can torment each other for all eternity.

Itachi is my fourth favorite character from this series, and I hate Sasuke very much for being an [censored. Nevertheless, I enjoy torturing both of them.

Descriptions:

Itachi is 5'9", has long black hair, and he uses the Sharingan virtually all the time, so his eyes are literally red throughout much of the series. He is the epitome of the perfect ninja- completely emotionless, so you don't see him doing anything emotional in the series.

Sasuke has short black hair that makes his head look like a duck's posterior, strange outfits, and a general emo-ness about him. He is also the most annoying and needlessly angsty character ever created.

**Other terms/characters used in this paper:**

Near: Mello's rival for the position of L's heir; leader of the SPK (Special Provision for Kira) in America, and orphan.

Waltari: An inventor who's real name is Q. Wammy. Founded Wammy's house, an orphanage for genii raised specifically to replace L.

Shounen- boys' manga

Shojo- girls' manga

Konohagakure, Otogakure, Iwagakure, etc.- Major ninja villages in the series Naruto.

S-Class missing nin- the highest level of ninja who defect from their original villages. They are considered to be the most dangerous, and are to be avoided by all costs unless being targeted by hunter-nin or ANBU squads.

Uchiha clan, Akimichi clan, etc.- Major founding clans of Konohagakure.

Death gods- also known as Shinigami. Possessors of Death Notes.

Death Notes- Notebooks that allow the user to kill with a name and a face; details and cause of death can be specified, as can time and place.

Teme- Japanese word for 'you.' If used insultingly, it can be extremely impolite (similar to the Latin word iste, ista).


	9. Author Notes

**Random author notes and stuff.**

First off, here's my friend's version, so go check it out. CHECK IT OUT, I SAY!** Hahahahahahahaha :)**

**http: (doubleslash) www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net (slash) s (slash) 3955587 (slash) 1 (slash) The(underscore)Inferno**, as written by my good friend Flaming Telepaths.

Second, if anything was a bit obvious in how I described the characters, I'd like to remind you that I did write it for my history teacher, who is 30-33 (I can't remember), a guy, a professor working on his doctorate (he'll be one next semester), has one son (that I know of), and is divorced (a fact of which I am 90 percent certain is true). Basically, he doesn't really have free time. But I think he does have a life. Unlike us UHS folks, where the people interested in having A's go nowhere on Friday or Saturday nights. (Or myself, who had enough free time to paint a watercolor for the front of the binder I stuck my paper in.)

Thirdly, the reason why pretty much only the Death Note characters spoke to me myself directly was because most of them are geniuses and it is highly likely they all know English (especially since L, Mello, and Matt all lived in the UK for quite some time). Not all of the Naruto characters are geniuses (Itachi's pretty much the only one), and since the world they came from does not actually exist and was created by a Japanese-speaking man, they more than likely speak Japanese. I do not speak Japanese. Therefore, L, who speaks Japanese, had to translate for me.

Tetra-ly (which is a word I just made up), I know that as the paper goes on it seems to go faster. That is because a) I was sleepy, and b) because my parents kept yelling at me for making the paper really long. I hereby propose to let the official reason be that as my mental skills (during the journey) declined, so did my mental acuity, emotional stability, and memory capabilities. As you can see, by the end of the eighth circle, I need caffeine to keep going.

Quintus (which is not a word I made up), all of the references to Latin are because of three (tres) reasons: Unus) Because we are required to take Latin for two years at school, duos) Latin is the language Catholic services are said in, and Dante was Catholic, and tres) Mr. Orgill is a Latin ninja, which I previously stated at the end of the last chapter.

Sextus, I only used two semi-rude phrases that I actually typed out because it is a school assignment. If the word was appropriate (i.e. damn) and called for (it wasn't), then I would have used it because as a writer I try to be as realistic as possible. With that said, yes, I am a bit prideful, yes, I am actually smart (although I'm generally horrible in the mathematics department), yes, I get seasick occasionally, and yes, I got a higher score on my Roman Research Paper than Albert did, though Audrey, Nicole, and Sargon scored higher, and Devin garnered the same score as myself.

A note on "damn": it was originally a term used as a verb, and basically had the meaning "Go to hell!" It is also used as "They are damned," which means "They are going to Hell," etc. etc. That is the only reason why it would have been semi-appropriate in this paper, although I didn't use it because other souls can't really tell me to go to hell when I'm already in it.

Septimus, yes, I was at one time a Mello fangirl. I was also a Matt fangirl and an L fangirl, although I never liked Raito (because he was a conniving bastard) or Near (because he was just plain freaky). I was also a Deidara fangirl and an Itachi fangirl, although I have ALWAYS hated Sasuke with a passion. (Currently I am not a fangirl of any of those listed above or any other anime character not listed above.)

Octavus, I didn't alter the writing in any way, shape or form before I put it up here, apart from un-double spacing the document, putting each canto into its own document, and adding the character info relevant to the chapter at the bottom. The only editorial change I made was in re-numbering the Cantos, as I originally skipped V and went straight to VI, a mistake that absolutely ruined the rest of the day when I figured it out.

And last, but not least, nonus, I didn't realize until after I had written a 26-page document that double-spaced out to 39 pages and a seven page character guide that was not double-spaced and got a 1/2" binder to hold it all and painted a watercolor title page that I was only receiving 50 points for the completed project.

So now I feel horrible, because I wrote this extremely large paper, and then on my final I completely B.S.ed the in-class essay because I couldn't remember what to write about, which basically means I ruined Mr. Orgill's vacation.

I've also put booby traps all around my room in case he invades with other Latin ninjas like Mrs. Downer or Mrs. Phannaphob or Ms. Lee.


End file.
